


Japanese Food

by arienai



Category: Devil May Cry, Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:24:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arienai/pseuds/arienai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Demi-fiend drops by Devil May Cry for some good old fashioned New York pizza and a night on the town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Japanese Food

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on my LJ years ago, but I've had a few people drop by looking for it since. Easier to find here!

Didn't get a whole lotta' callers at the door, here at _Devil May Cry_. Mostly people were scared shitless of anyone bad enough - or stupid enough - to claim he could take on the creatures the monsters mommy always told them wouldn't come out of the closet. And not that the shop's proprietor didn't have a sterling reputation with the ladies, it just wasn't the kind of reputation other guys, especially boyfriends, liked to hear about.

No, it tended to be that when someone had the cojones to come waltzing up those steps, they planned on adding at least a few grand to Dante's damage deposit. 

So when he heard the knock, which was awful polite of the rampaging demonic psycho and/or jilted ex when you really think about it, the devil hunter's first instinct was to go for Rebellion as opposed to the welcome mat. After he put his beer down safely, of course. And Trish. Never can be too careful with life's luxuries.

Lady was first to the door - annoying, because it wasn't her shop in the first place, and in the second if that was a hot babe she'd either send her home cold or be the one walking her back to her apartment - and with a hand on her sidearm she cracked it open with the other. "Hey Dante, it's some kid."

Oh boy, another wannabe hero, one who thought that if some old man and two chicks could do it, so could he; never seemed to realize that Dante was cheating, so was Trish, and Lady was just crazy. Better to scare him shitless and be done with it. Otherwise in a week Dante'd be finding the whatever pieces the demons left attached to his iPod. He vaulted over the desk and strode to the door to do just that.

"Been a while." Oh and that voice nearly made him skid to a halt, he didn't need the ringed-black fingers on the door or hooded sweatshirt to follow it up. A kid's voice, to be sure. Barely high school aged, if you had to place it. Probably would be a whole lot deeper in a couple of years; at least it would've been.

So, he had Rebellion, Ebony and Ivory were within arm's reach, and Trish was there to back him up. A few of Lady's grenades to kick things off and they _might_ just make it out the front door. Assuming the brat hadn't brought any of his friends with him. 

Nope, back was probably a better idea.

Dante was just about to say so when the kid added: "You still owe me pizza."

Was that what this was about? 

_"Corn-mayo? What the hell is that? That's not a pizza."_

_"It's tomato sauce on bread with cheese. It's a pizza."_

_"It's a_ crime _. Where the fuck is all the sushi, anyway?"_

_"I think they took all that to the bar full of ninjas. Geisha serve it to you, I hear. Godzilla owns the place."_

_"I can't eat this."_

_"So don't. It'll do wonders for your boyish figure."_

_"Look kid, you wouldn't be such a smartass if you'd ever had the real thing. You come to New York sometime, and I'll show you_ pizza _."_

Damn, he did too. Cocking a grin, he swept Lady out of the way and flung an arm around the boy's shoulders. "It _has_ been a while, hasn't it? Got a girlfriend yet, or you still with that blond guy?"

The kid ducked out from under it after Dante dragged him inside, but in so doing had his hood knocked off. The devil hunter could practically _feel_ Lady's finger on the trigger; horn aside, nobody'd let their baby boy get tats like that, no matter how much of a little punk he was. "Come on babe, this is a friend of mine. Hired me for a job a while back."

Lady pursed her lips like she did when Dante was out of the shower without a towel - hey, it was _his_ place - but she stuck her hand out anyway. Demon or no, the kid wasn't really any bigger than she was. Pssh. Chicks, right - size is everything. "Like Trish, huh? You can call me Lady."

"Ren Naoki." He'd thought it was a little weird that the kid was used to shaking hands the first time; but then, the kid had thought it was weird that he was used to chopsticks. What, they didn't have Chinese take out, in Japan?

"Trish." The blonde demon had stolen Dante's seat, her legs crossed over on the desk. And damn if she didn't look almost as good as he did doing it. She was smiling like she knew it, too. "And I know who you are."

Yeah, she probably did, and that could be bad for everybody. Dante loved a good catfight as much as the next man, but one more of _those_ and he might lose the shop. "Sorry, babes. It just became guys' night here at chez Dante. No tits unless we paid for 'em."

"Oh no, looks like I'll have to go on back to someplace with heat, hot water, and glass windows." Lady shrugged and rolled her eyes, already palming the keys to her ride. "See you around, Ren."

Trish put up more of a fight. "That's not fair, Dante. I bet he has _all kinds_ of stories about you." 

_"Oh what, how was I supposed to know he'd be immune to_ all _physical attacks until I tried a couple more?"_

"Maybe later, babe." He hauled her up by the waist and in the general direction of the door. "Come back with liquor, then we'll talk." She still pinned him by the door and got those cherry red lips all over his tongue before she left. Was it just his imagination, or were those fingers in his jacket a whole lot tighter than he was used to?

The kid had already seated himself on the edge of the desk to peruse it, disinterested in their make out session. The picture, which he glanced at, then gave him and Trish the same queer look most people did on that particular discovery. The glove, which was way too big for him. And the single coin, which he tossed up in the air, grinning.

"Heads, your girlfriend would fuck me." The kid caught it without looking. "Heads it is."

"Bent over with a strap on." Dante fished around in the fridge for the only thing not past the expiry date: beer. Kid was old enough for that. "Yeah I bet you get all the tail you want now, huh? How is Pixie, anyway?"

That earned him nothing but a derisive little snort, and it was hard to tell if the grimace was over the taste of the cheap beer or the bad joke. "...As much as I could ever want." Still, he took another pull. "Fine. Powerful. She's still my right hand - she should be."

Nope, over something else entirely. Time for that pizza. "What kind'ja want?"

"Corn mayo."

" _Hi-larious_."

"I don't know." Ren tipped the beer back and drained it, motioning for more. "Whatever you put on pizza here - hambugers and bacon and hot dogs, or something."

"Meat lover's it is." Dante chuckled and put in the call. "For pick up, this time."

The kid raised an eyebrow. "What, you wanna' see the town, dontcha'?"

That was a ploy to get him out of the shop before he was too sloshed to do his own shoelaces. Dante wasn't sure if demons _could_ get drunk, sure, but if any demon could it'd be the teenaged asian kind. He put that hood back up, and Dante tugged it back down. No point, and he saw why, when he rounded the corner to where his baby sat parked on the curb. Sleek, sexy, and with curves in all the right places - Dante could tell he was in love when he sat right down on the back without a word of complaint.

Besides, nobody was really gonna think they saw what they thought they saw under flickering streetlights. The guys'd be all eyes for the hot little number, and the chicks'd be all eyes for the hot little number riding her. Not like you could really mess up that hair of his, either.

He took him on the scenic route, over the bridge and past the wharf, so close to the water he could feel the spray on his face, little droplets of black and neon orange. Then right so hard through the park he had to be sure they'd get wrapped around a tree - and this was the part the where the ladies squealed and held him real tight - before breaking every speed limit in the state back to the pizza joint. 

But no, the kid was just laughing, under his breath. "What're _you_ compensating for?"

"You know what I'm _not_." Ah, there it was: the door swung open, and the scent of baking dough wafted out, warm and heavenly. He tipped the guy extra for not staring too hard at the kid with all the ink. "Get it while it's hot."

Leaning up against the bike, soft glow from his skin barely bleeding out under the streetlamps, eyes flaring up like sparks, the kid dubiously picked up a slice. "It's huge." And quickly discovered that he needed to keep it level or all the slices would fall out. Dante chuckled.

Still staring at it like he was trying to figure out what its weakness was, the kid watched a long oozing droplet of grease run from the tip. "Nice."

"Just eat it already. Do wonders for your boyish figure."

Yeah, that should've earned him a shot in the arm or at least a long-suffering look, but it didn't. Just a quirk of his lips. On one side. And then he opened his mouth: since when did the kid have teeth like that? Razor-sharp. He didn't, last Dante recalled.

But what do you really say to that? So, how's the whole demon thing working out for you? You don't. You watch him eat the pizza, and eat your own slice of pizza, because that way neither of you have to say anything.

Until the kid made a little noise in the back of his throat, swallowing hard, and startling the hell out of his companion. "This is fucking _fantastic_!" 

Dante burst out laughing. "Yeah, you're damn right it is." 

And the kid was laughing, too.

After that it was time to drag him to Dante's favourite haunts: say hello to Enzo and shoot some pool - he told him those were yakuza tattoos and had him going for a full second or two, say hello to his girls and get kicked out of the strip club - Demi-fiend or no he wasn't passing for eighteen anytime this century. Kind of funny to watch him get hauled out by a paunchy bouncer he could annihilate off the face of the planet.

Then it was past two in the morning and only places still open were bars or McDonalds. So, yeah, take out from McDonalds and back to his place for some Halo - lose a life, take a shot, the only way to play video games - which the kid thoroughly kicked his ass at, but that was his loss.

Somewhere around 4 am, or two bottles of scotch later: "So, about that tail..."

"What the hell took you so long?" Ren knocked the empty out of his hand so he could peel Dante's coat off, straddling his hips before he could so much as put down the controller. 

"You're the classy one." Dante fumbled with the button of his shorts for a bit before giving up and letting the kid do it, better to get a handful of ass instead. "Had to take you out for dinner."

The kid shoved him down onto his back by the shoulders, and the devil hunter did not mind one bit: all the better to pull him up onto his chest and use his mouth for a while until the room stopped spinning. 

Dante tugged those shorts down and tried to shift him off after a bit, but the kid was having none of it; he curled his fingers tight in Dante's hair and made him swallow a few times before he was willing to turn over and give back. And _damn_ he'd forgotten just how tight that tiny little mouth could be. Almost as tight as the rest of him - but he wasn't getting any of _that_ until the kid was thoroughly milked. 

But then it was all his for the taking, hot and fierce and deep and pressed up against the armrest of his very own couch, touching every one of those smooth black lines and tracing them to the spot the met in the center of his flat stomach, where he dug in with his knuckles while he fucked him.

And again in the shower. Lady warned him there was no hot water.

Not much in the way of clean towels, either, so they lay curled up on Dante's bed under the blankets, spent, with the kid's head on his shoulder. The devil hunter could feel him trace striped fingers down his chest lazily while he dozed.

"...How do you do it?" It was a quiet question, off-hand.

"Mm?" Dante squeezed his thigh, very glad the girls weren't home. Lady because she'd never let him hear the end of the asian teen thing, Trish because she'd find it hilarious that even the blood of mighty Sparda couldn't resist kneeling before Hell's Champion. "Do what?"

"Live like this." He rolled over to look up at the ceiling. Before Dante could figure out what that was supposed to mean, he went on: "Hang out. The girlfriends, the buddies at the bar. Pizza, pool, the Xbox."

Dante chuckled. "Why not?"

Ren frowned. "You're the son of one of the most powerful demons ever born. You live in a world with an open door to the demon world - and save it every other weekend. You'll outlive everyone you know by centuries. You feel things they never will, and don't feel things they always have."

That might just have been the most the devil hunter had ever heard the kid say in one sitting. "It keeps me grounded, I guess. Reminds me that I'm still as much a part of the world as they are. Pool's fun, I like Enzo and the babes down at the strip joint, and New York pizza - well, I have it on good authority even the King of Chaos thinks it's fucking fantastic."

Okay, yeah, that made him laugh. He rolled his eyes, sure, but he smirked. And he lay silent beside Dante for a long while before getting up to go search for his shorts. And socks. And hoodie. "Leaving already? Got what you came for?"

The kid didn't justify that with an answer. Dante heard him tread downstairs and bang the cupboards in the kitchen a bit, before coming back up with fresh beer. "There a supermarket around here?"

"Do I look like I buy food from the supermarket?" Dante popped the cap off with his teeth. "Corner store, maybe. Convenience store, definitely."

The kid turned wordlessly and jogged back down the stairs, leaving Dante with a cold bed in which to nurse his beer, reminded that the boy didn't damn well _walk_ anywhere. Ah well. Probably what gave him those legs. And the ass you could bounce a quarter off of. 

He dozed off to those pleasantly thoughts, barely conscious of the sound of the microwave, thinking of how nice it was for his Japanese housewife to make him breakfast - he'd save that one for later if he remembered it in the morning - or that of boiling water. He fell asleep to the taste of beer, and woke slowly to the smell of rice and green tea.

Definitely not familiar scents for chez Dante, which made him curious enough to bother to put pants on and march blearily down the stairs. "What in the world are you up to, kid?"

Ren waved him over to the table. There he set a bowl of white rice that Dante could swear he had just poured tea on in front of him, and handed him a pair of cheap bamboo chopsticks. "This is breakfast?" The devil hunter asked doubtfully.

"Yep." The kid responded, and took a seat across from him. The first few rays of the sun filtered through plastic in the windowframes as the coffee pot began to hiss, just above the low hum of the morning news on television. He inhaled from his own bowl before he snapped his chopsticks apart.

" _Itadakimasu_."


End file.
